


was blind, but now i see

by gortysproject



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Also I Don't Need To Be Using Caps For Every Single Word In The Tags But Here We Are, Eiffel Being Helpful For Once, F/M, Near Death Experiences, Relationship tag has been used loosely; more implied than actually romantic, That One Time With The Airlock, You Will Pry GAD Hera From My Cold Dead Hands, anxiety attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gortysproject/pseuds/gortysproject
Summary: Eiffel and Hera haven't always been best friends. In fact, they were hardly friends at all. That all changed when she nearly flushed him out of an airlock.Plus, superior intelligences, Frankenstein's Robot, tender notes, and a communications officer officially communicating.





	

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i have no idea about anything to do with space and Technical Things.  
> also i spend too much time thinking about how eiffel went from being Mean to hera to seeing her as his best friend. i spend waaaaaaaay too much of my time thinking about that.

MAXWELL: Did you ever notice anything about Hera being off?

EIFFEL: Nah.

MINKOWSKI: Everything was fine.

EIFFEL: Well, _actually_ …

MINKOWSKI: There were some problems. Remember that time climate control got down to 400 below?

EIFFEL: Oh, yeah. And Cold Shower September our first year up.

MINKOWSKI: There was the crash of the pressure system, that huge power outage…

EIFFEL: And **that time with the airlock** … Yeah. Yeah, I guess this isn’t our first game of Metal Gear Not-So-Solid.

 

* * *

 

 

_Writer’s Note: The following takes place on Day 197 of the Hephaestus Mission._

“Remind me again what I’m doing?”

The question rips an aggrieved sigh from Commander Minkowski. “You know, it’s funny. I know you’re not paying attention. I know you’re _never_ paying attention. But you still manage to surprise me with your unfortunately high level of incompetence when it comes to _paying attention_.”

She yanks on the belt, hard, and Eiffel yelps as the suit tightens. “Okay! Okay. Okay. But the only reason I’m tuning you out is because I have _no idea_ what you’re saying. You’re all _signal this_ and _panel that_ and _complicated wire thing whatever_. In fact, I _know_ you’re making this sound more complicated than it is, so you and Hilbert can laugh it up with your superior intelligences while dumb old Officer Eiffel gets left behind saying stuff like, _what_ signal? _Which_ panel? I’m asking pretty good questions, here!”

“I have,” _tug_ , “no idea,” _tug_ , “what you’re talking about. But it’s okay, I’m used to it.” With that, Minkowski tugs once more before dropping the belt. “Hilbert and I are guiding you to the panel you need to pull up. You are going to adjust it as per our instructions. You are going straight out, and straight back in, and you are not going to screw it up. Understood?”

He glares at her, lowering his arms where they were raised so she could adjust his suit. “Yes, _sir_.”

“And – fun fact, Eiffel.” She glares back at him. “Our _superior intelligences_ are not laughing at you. They’re not enjoying your relentless bad decisions, nor are they entertained by your persistent and practised ability to kill us all _with_ said bad decisions, they’re just trying to keep the station in orbit. It would be appreciated if our communications officer were to contribute to that task, but I’ve learned not to expect that much from him.”

She pauses. “Besides, if he were to actually _do_ his job, the universe would be so wrong that we might just – fall into the star _anyway_. Our superior intelligences are the _only_ thing keeping you alive at the moment.”

The station speakers crackle briefly, before a chipper voice chimes in, “Commander, I think you’ll find _m-m-my_ superior intelligence is the one keeping us alive most of the time.”

At that, Minkowski hesitates, and Eiffel seizes the opportunity to add, “Yeah, we’re just alive ’cause _Frankenstein’s Robot_ wants us to be.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Hera replies automatically. She refrains from adding, _I have no idea what all these nicknames mean,_ because last time she pointed it out Eiffel made fun of her for ‘almost being done with A’. She doesn’t think there’s anything peculiar with that, but Minkowski said he just wanted to make fun of her because he feels threatened when people are smart.

She doesn’t understand that, either. Of course she’s smart. She’s impossibly more intelligent than any person – that’s why she’s there.

Having said that, Hera doesn’t understand anything about Officer Eiffel. She likes Commander Minkowski – she trusts her to do her job, and vice versa. Occasionally, the commander even talks to her about her private life; there are things she tells Hera that she’d never tell the other two. Dr Hilbert is dismissive, but Hera knows to expect that from him now. He doesn’t see her as a person, and she doesn’t see him as someone she particularly wants to be around. Together, they’ve learned to respect each other from a distance. They only speak to each other when they have to.

But Eiffel – Eiffel is _mean_. Eiffel calls her names that have no effect on her because she doesn’t understand them, but they itch at her nonetheless. Eiffel doesn’t see her as a person but he’ll talk at her whenever he wants to. A few days ago, he spent an hour talking to her about the Star Wars movies. A few days before, he told her to be quiet so he could eat Thanksgiving dinner sooner.

He used to whisper when he wanted to say something mean he didn’t want her to hear. Now, since he’s realised she’ll hear it nonetheless, he says it to her directly. She thinks she prefers the former.

However, despite this – despite _all_ of this, his mixed signals, his harsh words, his names, his blatant disregard for her as an autonomous being – it sounds ridiculous, but she just wants him to like her. The _real_ him: the him that talks to his recorder in the comms room, when he’s too sleepy to bother trying to sound more cynical than he is. The one that pats the wall and says _thanks, Hera_ when she helps out, when he’s not really paying attention.

She doesn’t know how to keep that Eiffel around.

 

* * *

 

“Your comms will be connected to Hera, Hilbert and I. We’ll be able to hear you, you’ll be able to hear us. Hera can instruct you until you get outside, but after that, you’ll be listening to me.”

Eiffel scowls at her before he pulls his helmet on, muffling his voice. “Right, Mom. Did you pack my lunch in a paper bag?” He gasps mockingly. “Did you leave a tender note inside saying _your father and I are very proud_?”

In response, he receives her steely glare. “You’ve never been on a space walk before. And believe it or not, Eiffel, space _kills_. And no matter how much easier it would make my life on so many levels, I don’t actually want you dead.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He grins. She pushes him into the airlock. As he floats inside, the lighting flickers, enough to notice but not enough for the room to actually go dark. Minkowski glances up, too, but clearly thinks little of it. She hits the button to seal the interior airlock hatch.

“I’m going back to the monitor to meet up with Hilbert,” she says, and now he’s hearing her through the tinny comms speaker as the door slides shut. The lights flicker again. “Hera, don’t open the exterior hatch until I say so.”

Hera doesn’t respond. Through the window, Eiffel sees Minkowski push off from the airlock door, gliding through the air to reach the next set of doors. As they slide shut behind her, the lights flicker again, and Eiffel’s gut is beginning to twist. “Three times a minute,” he mutters to himself. “Either that’s normal and I’m waaaay more unobservant than I thought, or...” He glances through the window again. “Or that’s not normal.”

However, he knows the monitor set up in Hilbert’s lab is a few minutes’ journey away from the airlock, so he unclips and pulls off the helmet, shaking his head to relieve how _stuffy_ it feels in the suit. Minkowski said Pryce and Carter considers this _a leisure activity_. He’s just trying not to think about how itchy the space suit is.

“Oh! Officer Eiffel, I didn’t n-notice you were already in the airlock. My apologies.” Hera’s voice, startlingly bright, comes over Eiffel’s portable comms device and the station’s tannoy system at the same time.

“What?” He pauses. “Hera, didn’t you hear what Minkowski—”

She interrupts him. “Stand by for ex-exterior airlock opening in fifteen. Fourteen.”

Immediately, Eiffel straightens up, raising his arms as though to wave at her to stop. “Uh, JARVIS? Iron Man’s not exactly in the suit right now. Don’t open the –”

“Thirteen. Twelve.”

“—airlock, I don’t have my helmet on. _Hera_. Hera?”

“Eleven.”

Minkowski’s voice crackles through over the space suit intercom. “Eiffel? What’s going on? Why’s Hera opening the—”

“I don’t know, Commander, but she won’t – Hera, _stop_. Abort. Stand down.”

Oblivious, Hera continues. “Eight. Seven.”

“I don’t have the fricking helmet on!” He scrambles for it, but it’s too late. He knows six seconds isn’t long enough to fix the helmet into place properly, but he pulls it on his head nonetheless, listening as Minkowski’s voice returns from over the static.

“Eiffel, _get out of there_! Hera!”

“F-four. Three.”

Eiffel’s fist slams down on the button to open the interior airlock hatch, vision narrowed by the helmet’s thin visor. As he pulls himself out of the airlock, fast breaths fogging up the visor, he spins around in the air and pushes the button to shut the hatch.

As the door slides closed, he hears, “One. Exterior hatch opened. Welcome to outer space, Officer Eiffel.”

Eiffel tugs off the helmet. His hands are shaking; he’s pressed against the interior airlock door, staring through the window as the exterior hatch closes. Through that window, he can see a narrow glimpse of the wide expanse of space he was almost vented into.

After a couple of seconds of silence, in which Eiffel can both feel and hear his wildly-beating heart threatening to burst through his ribcage, the intercom switches on again. “Eiffel?” demands Minkowski, but he can hear an undercurrent of fear in her tone that, at any other point, he’d be glad to make fun of. “Eiffel, come in!”

“Commander,” he starts, voice weak, “I’m –”

Hera interrupts him again. “Officer-cer E-Eiffel?” Her voice sounds less certain than it did before. “Why are you still inside? You’re s-supposed to be outside.”

Teeth gritted, he growls, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because _someone almost flushed me out into space_?” Volume rising, he adds, “Maybe because I had to _dive back inside so I didn’t die_?” Breathing heavily, he pushes himself away from the airlock hatch – he doesn’t want to be anywhere near that thing right now – to start making his way towards… somewhere. Anywhere inside the station. Automatically, his path turns towards the comms room.

“Officer Eiffel?”

He ignores her. Minkowski doesn’t. “Hera, what the hell was that?” she asks, voice icy. “You almost killed him!”

The voice still sounds confused as it echoes from the overhead speakers. “Officer Eiffel? C-Commander Minkowski?” After a pause, Hera asks, “Dr Hilbert? What’s going on?”

Pause.

“Why is no one talking to me?”

Silence prevails among the crew for a moment, before Eiffel, Minkowski and Hilbert, all at once, ask, “ _Hera_?” Eiffel’s turning in the air to locate the nearest camera when he speaks, and as he finds it, he gives a little wave. “Uh, Skynet, we _are_ talking to you. About how you just nearly killed me. Please say you’re paying attention to that, ’cause it’s pretty goddamm—”

“Officer Eiffel, I can see you – you’re _t-talking_ to me. But I can’t… hear you. I c-can’t hear you. Why can’t I hear you?”

A lead weight drops in Eiffel’s stomach.

“Hilbert, what’s going on?” Minkowski’s voice comes through the intercom, clearer now. “Why can’t she hear us?”

The lights flicker again. Eiffel stares at the camera, eyes wide, lips parted, unmoving. _I can’t hear you. Why can’t I hear you?_ Hera’s speaking, frantic, voice glitching heavily as she tries to figure out what’s going on, and Hilbert’s saying something about the software, about the flickering lights, about Hera needing to be quiet while he tries to think – but she doesn’t hear that, of _course_ she doesn’t hear that, because she can’t hear anything. And Eiffel’s left staring at the camera, trying to fight the flood of memories threatening to break down a well-placed dam.

“I’m so sorry,” she’s saying. “I almost k-killed you! I didn’t know! I didn’t hear you – I can’t hear you – _I-I-I-I’m_ still not –”

Swallowing, Eiffel forces himself into action. He raises his hands in a surrender, facing the camera. “Okay,” he says to himself, quietly, then louder, “Okay. Hera?” He waves. “Slow down. Just – just calm down.” As he says that, he moves his right hand to his face, putting his finger on his lips.

She stops talking.

A slightly forced smile on his face, his hand moves into a thumbs-up. “Good. Awesome. We got this.”

“Eiffel?” asks Minkowski, taking a break from talking to Hilbert. “What’s going on? Can she hear you?”

He glances down at his comms device momentarily. “No, Commander, she can’t hear me. But we got this. Your Communications Officer is officially communicating. Watch and learn – or, y’know, don’t watch, because you’re probably on the other side of the station by now, so you can’t see me.”

“…Oooookay.” Minkowski sounds doubtful. “Can you _communicate_ with her that Dr Hilbert’s heading down to the Bridge to start inputting orders directly?”

“I – um. I sure can _try_.” Turning back to the camera, Eiffel hesitates, before motioning to the space suit’s intercom, then moving his arms as though he were walking, then stretching his hands out in front of himself and wiggling his fingers to depict typing. He winces. Then does the same routine again.

Hera’s voice crackles back over the station intercom. “Is th-this Dr Hilbert? He’s moving south. He’s going… to – to type? He’s g-going to type to…”

Eiffel points at the camera.

“…Me?”

_Bingo_. He nods, and she repeats it again. “Dr Hilbert is going to – _o-oh_. He’s heading to the Bridge to manually access my mainframe in order to communicate with me?”

This time, his smile isn’t forced. Minkowski’s voice rises above the space suit intercom’s static, saying, “You – _how_ did you manage to tell her that? Seriously. How.”

Eiffel grins. “A good Communications Officer never reveals his secrets.” After a moment, he adds, “And, Doc? Let me know when Hera can hear me again, because I need to tell _her_ not to reveal the secret, either.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Hilbert took over, Eiffel was relieved of his duties. Minkowski told him he was excused, and they’d try to fix the panel tomorrow, once Hera was functioning again properly. It was only when she said, “Take the rest of the day off,” that he realised she was genuinely shaken from nearly losing him to the cold, dark void of space. It was almost flattering.

A crackle through the station’s comms system interrupts Eiffel’s audio log as he speaks, and he glances up, wondering if the sound suggests Hera is back online after the reboot. Talking to the recorder, he says, “Well, dear listeners, it appears our station’s autopilot is back and –”

“Officer Eiffel?” Hera’s sharp, bubbly voice echoes through the comms room. Eiffel grins, waving at the camera. “Say s-something.”

“Oh! Right. Yeah.” Eiffel scrambles to switch off the recorder – _there’s no point in recording every conversation happening between crewmates for Command, right? This isn’t exactly their daily entertainment_. Swivelling around in the air to face away from the comms panel, he clears his throat dramatically before saying, “Hello, Mother Program Hera, it’s good to have you back.” He salutes.

A sound slips through the intercom, and Eiffel wonders, for a moment, if that was an honest-to-god giggle. “Okay, looks like my auditory processing systems are back online in every room in the station. I c-can h-hear again!”

Again, the words kick Eiffel in the stomach, but he can’t help smiling at her, even if the expression does falter slightly. “You can hear again,” he echoes, weaker but warmer. “Any idea what caused the, uh. The problem?”

“A car accident caused by my dad drinking and driving,” Hera doesn’t say.

“We’re not completely sure,” Hera says. “It must’ve been some sort of systems overload, or a crosswire, or maybe even just an unexplained c-crash, but it’s sorted, now.” There’s a pause. The crackle of static through the speaker suggests Hera still wants to talk, but she says nothing.

After a long moment, Eiffel sighs. “Hera, I—”

At the exact same time, Hera says, “Officer Eiffel, I’m –”

They both stop and wait for the other to start. Eiffel stares at the camera for a moment, and it feels as though the camera is staring back. Hera breaks the silence first. “Officer Eiffel, I’m so, s-so sorry about what happened in the airlock. I swear I never m-m-meant for that to happen. It just – I didn’t hear Commander Minkowski issue the order to wait for her, and the airlock is outside of my visual sense hori-i-izon, so I didn’t see your helmet was off, and I thought –”

“Hera. Hera!” She stops. He takes a deep breath. “It’s okay.”

“N-no,” she replies, almost immediately, “it’s not. I almost killed you! I’m not supposed to do that. I-I’m supposed to be the one stopping _other_ things f-from killing you!” Eiffel opens his mouth to interrupt, again, but Hera’s words drown him out. “I just wanted you to like me, and now you-you probably h-hate me, and I – Officer Eiffel, I really, _really_ am sorry!”

Silence. Eiffel’s mouth hangs open uselessly. The crackle remains filtering through the speakers for a moment, before it shuts off. The sound doesn’t deter him, and, summoning every ounce of his strength to sound normal, he asks, “You wanted me to like you?”

Part of him wonders if she’ll answer at all, but the intercom switches on again, and a quiet voice replies, “Maybe. Yes.” He blinks. She continues. “Commander Minkow-kowski is – she’s great. But all our conversations are so… one-sided. And Dr Hilbert b-barely even registers me as a p-person. But you… I thought – um. Well, I thought it might be…”

“You wanted me to like you,” Eiffel repeats, and he wants to sound smug – he _really_ does – but instead his tone is... _humble_. His voice is quiet. His eyes are wide. And his chest hurts.

Neither of them speak for a long time, but the intercom stays on, crackling faintly but steadily. Eventually, Eiffel pushes his hand through his tangled, overgrown hair, and says, “I gotta hit the hay. Early wake up tomorrow.”

“Right,” Hera responds swiftly. “Of course.”

He hesitates for a moment before pushing on ahead. “But when I wake up, you’re gonna tell me what you want me to do. And I’m gonna do it.”

“Officer Eiffel?”

“You…” He sighs. Pushes his hair back again. Chews on his lower lip. “You deserve it, sweetheart. I’ve kind of treated you like trash ever since I got here. You want a friend? I’ll be your goddamn bestie.”

As Hera goes quiet, taking a moment to allow that to sink in, the faint traces of a smile curve the corners of Eiffel’s lips. Sure, tonight his dreams will probably be plagued with the haunting tone of Hera’s voice _– I can’t hear you. Why can’t I hear you?_ But come morning, that broken, scared, glitching voice will be a distant memory, replaced easily with the chipper tone of an AI greeting her crewmate with a polite, “ _Good morning, Officer Eiffel_.”

And, he thinks, that voice just might be enough to quell the nightmares if he allowed it to.

Then, he wonders, maybe it always _was_.

**Author's Note:**

> find me @aihera on tumblr!! hope you enjoyed <3


End file.
